In August of 1984, I learned two things: people do bad things and an airport is a terrible place to live. I was nine.
We’d just been swindled. Trish had answered an ad in the newspaper to drive a truckload of furniture, trailing a Cadillac, from Las Vegas to Brooklyn. There was no compensation, but our expenses would be reimbursed. Trish, Xavier, and I were moving to Grandad’s house in Spain and this roadtrip would reduce our travel costs, having to buy airfare only from New York to Madrid. But when we finally got to Brooklyn, both parties pointed fingers and neither reimbursed us the money we were owed.
This left us stranded at JFK Airport for twelve long days. The money we had left wasn’t enough to fill our bellies with the crappy food from the concession stands, let alone buy our tickets to Spain. With no other options, we made do sleeping on the hard plastic chairs, washed our clothes in the bathroom sink and hung them to dry on our luggage cart fort, and endured endless hours of boredom, discomfort, and desperation. It cost a quarter for fifteen minutes of television, and like the food we couldn’t afford, I devoured my rations with a mix of pleasure and remorse. Trish made calls from the nearby pay phone, filed a small claims lawsuit, and told me to brush my hair another hundred times.
After our story hit the papers and the evening news, we were informed that a woman named Ruth had invited us to her home in Queens, where she lived with her husband and children. Though still uncertain about how we’d get to Spain, we were thrilled to leave the airport. We rode in a NYPD cop car and on the way to Ruth’s house, the officers pointed out some of the sights of the Big Apple we’d only seen on TV. Things were looking up.
Ruth greeted us warmly and made us a home-cooked meal. We took hot showers and slept in comfy beds. Far away from the relentless PA announcements and out of the public eye at the airport, I was grateful for the comforts of her home and genuine care.
We joined Ruth for a trip to Pennsylvania for a big family picnic at her parents’ house, where there was plenty of space and everyone was welcoming and friendly. She made prune plum dumplings, a dish she makes every Labor Day weekend when Italian prune plums are in season. The abundance of food, harvesting tomatoes and cucumbers from the garden, and playing with the other kids were a much welcome distraction. It was nice to just be a kid again and forget the rest.
Somehow, our good fortune continued. Spantax, a Spanish airline, gifted us first-class tickets to Madrid. Once aboard, the captain came over to welcome us and invited Xavier and me to tour the cockpit. A third news article documented the “happy ending to a horror story.” We were finally on our way to Spain.
Trish and Ruth never saw each other again, but a beautiful epistolary friendship blossomed between them over the years. As I was going through Trish’s things in Spain last year, I came across the letters Ruth had sent her, before they lost touch. An overwhelming sense of gratitude came over me.
Thanks to Facebook, I was able to reconnect with Ruth. She told me she’d saved Trish’s letters as well, and thought of us fondly whenever she made prune plum dumplings. After we strolled down memory lane, I was finally able to properly thank Ruth. When we’d said our goodbyes forty years ago, I’d thanked her. But since then, my gratitude has changed. As my understanding of the hardships of life and the fragility of the human condition has grown, so has my appreciation for what she did for us.
Ruth gave us so much more than a few days of reprieve from living in the airport. She generously opened up her home and heart to us at a time when we were vulnerable, desperate, and could give nothing in return. She took us in like family and in caring for us, she gave us comfort and light. Her kindness taught me that there are good people in this world, light to be found in darkness, hope in despair, and strength in togetherness.
We’d been stranded at the airport, and were rescued by a community of compassionate strangers. While I still consider an airport a terrible place to live, I’ve come to see this life experience as pivotal in forming, and maintaining, my worldview. I’m grateful to have been able to experience first-hand such a magnificent ripple effect of human compassion and kindness. Even amidst the dangers and wrongdoings, there’s plenty of good out there. And many ways to return kindness. ❤️❤️
What life experience(s) are you grateful for?
I’d love to hear your thoughts! Until then, I wish you moments of great clarity so that you may see past the daily clutter, quiet the noise, and savor what truly matters to you. Thank you for reading!
November’s little joy
With the days getting shorter and the temperatures quickly dropping, there’s no better time to slow down and cultivate a little hygge (pronounced hoo-gah). In The Little Book of Hygge: The Danish Way to Live Well, Meik Wiking identifies ten key components for living a happy life: atmosphere, presence, pleasure, equality, gratitude, comfort, togetherness, harmony, truce, and shelter. A way of life in Denmark, Wiking describes hygge as “an atmosphere and an experience … A feeling of home. A feeling that we are safe, that we are shielded from the world.”
Lighting a candle, snuggling up with a book and a soft blanket, or savoring a warm cup of coffee or hot cocoa are just a few ways to build a sanctuary of coziness and comfort. A lively gathering with friends or family connecting over a shared meal or board games can also be hyggelig.
At its core, its about cherishing everyday moments and enjoying life’s simple pleasures.
Response from October’s Newsletter Question
Are you making space in your life for the relationships that help nourish and sustain you?
“I feel called out,” said one reader. He was admitting he very rarely asks friends for help. Several other readers said the same. A close friend reached out, suggesting we try Simon Sinek’s “eight-minute catch-up.” (Of course, I enthusiastically agreed.)
I’d say these responses——and the ensuing conversations——all show that they are, in fact, doing the work to make space for nourishing relationships!
ICYMI
Newsletters: October: Better Together, September: How’s the book coming along? August: When the lemons come ...
Joy snacking: sunset, dahlias, concrete joy, espresso, squirrels
Scrapbook: The Pedicab, Our brown van
Other posts: "I quietly hoard memoirs”
What a young age to learn such lessons of life, the hard way. Healing means being able to focus on these lessons and the gratitude. What a show of resilience and positive strength.
So great you were able to reconnect with Ruth and circle back to this amazing testimony of human goodness and greatness. May these acts inspire us all to reproduce them in small and big ways every day.
Thanks for sharing an other incredible snippet of your so rich life!